The Golden Bay Experience

The guest room was needed for another pair of visitors making for the perfect opportunity to visit Golden Bay for a couple nights. Tom and Robyn had put me in touch with their friends Gene and Cathy, who live right on the bay at the mouth of the Takaka river.

Golden Bay is only accessible from the Takaka hill giving it an isolated and secluded vibe. It’s known for its hippy presence and alternative crowd.

The day of departure was spent cleaning the guest room and prepping the van. I was pretty excited to test out some of my recent improvements like the hand pump sink. Plus, I only had to bring what I needed and could leave the rest behind, making for more comfortable and spacious living.

Driving over the Takaka hill takes a long time for how far it is. Right at the base of the hill in Riwaka, there’s a section of road that slipped last winter in a big storm. Traffic can only move in one direction at a time. I started the journey behind a big line of cars and was stuck in a queue going up the windy mountain road. The top of the hill is 800 meters high and known to get snow in the winter.

I cruised into Gene and Cathy’s neighborhood in the early evening. They have the last house on an unsealed road in one of Takaka’s few neighborhoods. Their place is modestly sized and super cozy inside. They have a black lab named Harley. In the yard they have all sorts of stuff growing including a small orchard with apples and plums. At the end of the lawn is a gate leading past a picnic bench and right onto the beach. Their part of the bay is especially shallow due to sedimentation from the river, and a mile of beach gets exposed at low tide.

They brought me in for dinner. I immediately felt comfortable around them. Gene is from the Florida Keys. I told him I I was reading a book set in the Keys, and when he asked me the author and I said, “Carl Hiaasen,” he replied: “I knew you’d say that. I used to play tennis with him.” Small world.

Meanwhile we were getting pounded with the first rain in weeks. I was sitting at the table looking outside when I felt the ground start shaking. It was a quick tremor, lasting only a few seconds, but it was unmistakably an earthquake. Being on the beach is not ideal during an earthquake, but it was too little to warrant panic. We pulled up the USGS earthquake map and tracked it to 5km North of Whanganui on the North Island, magnitude 4.7. That night Gene gave me a cup of his homemade Caspian yogurt from his ancient culture. Delicious stuff. He sent me home with a jar full which I plan to look after as long as I’m here. They told me to come in for breakfast the next morning.

The rain had ceased and the sky was completely clear as I walked out to my van for the night. I had my best sleep in a long time.

After a leisurely morning I drove off for Wharariki beach on the West coast to try to get some mussels before the tide came in too far. I took a wrong turn near the beach and got stuck behind a rancher and his dog moving his herd from one paddock to another. It was incredible watching him work together with the dog to round up the cows, rousing them out of ditches and collecting the stragglers.

The walk out to Wharariki beach was gorgeous. It wound through pastures, into the native bush, and popped you out onto windswept dunes above the beach. I walked to the end of the beach where Gene told me I’d find the mussel beds, but the tide was too high already. That was a bit of a disappointment, as I’d planned my day around being able to cook up fresh mussels for lunch. Instead I walked up and down the beach, snapped a couple pics, and watched a little rivulet next to the rocks drain and fill when a serious of waves superimposed just right.

Back at the parking lot I bought a coffee from the little outdoor cafe and sat down at a bench to read a chapter.

By the time I left I was feeling much better despite my failure to collect mussels for lunch.

My next stop was the Farewell spit, a 25km sandspit jutting out into the ocean. You can’t go out more than 4km unless you’re on a guided tour, but even that was impossible due to the height of the tide. Instead, I walked from the bay side over 2km of pastures to the ocean side. I climbed a giant rock structure and sat there taking in the view. It was cloudy and the surf was rough, making it feel lonely and desolate.

On my way out I made an epic sandwich for lunch to make up for missing out on the mussels.

I stopped to see the small town of Collingwood on my drive back down the bay. There’s nothing there besides a few cafes and a general store. My visit lasted no more than 20 minutes.

From there I drove back to Takaka to take a closer look having only passed through the day before on my way to Gene and Cathy’s. The place is littered with funky cafes, organic food stores, and white people with dreads. It has a California feeling, maybe like back in the 70s.

I made it back to home base in time to go for a walk on the beach and get a shower before heading over to their neighbor’s house for dinner. We walked over.

Just like Gene and Cathy, these particular neighbors were a couple consisting of an American husband and Kiwi wife. I’m embarrassed to have forgotten the name of my host, but he grew up all over California, from Cupertino to San Jose to Bakersfield. We were served a vegan dish with quinoa, lentils, onions, carrots, and probably some stuff I’m forgetting topped with smashed avocado and coconut yogurt, all encompassed by a lettuce leaf. It was really something. Super delicious. We had organic coconut ice cream for dessert. Vegans be eatin’ good. Oh, and I forgot to mention. Their house had a stunning view of the water.

Back at the house, Cathy and I shared Bailey’s on ice before I went off to bed.

The next morning the three of us went out on the beach to collect some clams at low tide. I figured I could make up for my failure the previous day by getting my seafood fix here. We spent a good hour plus wading in the warm shallow water, dragging our fingers through the sand to find the lurking clams. Peak experience.

We washed off the clams while Cathy made breakfast. Once we were finished eating, we said our goodbyes and I left Gene and Cathy’s beachfront hideaway.

My first stop that day was Te Pupu springs, just down the road from Gene and Cathy’s. The springs advertise some of the clearest water in the world. You are no longer allowed to swim there, but you can go on a little 20 minute loop to get a good view of the water. In the parking lot I met Andre and Andrea, a couple from Walnut Creek. They were super friendly and stoked to hear what I was doing. They knew Gunn through high school football.

Abel Tasman National Park can also be accessed from the Golden Bay side of the Takaka hill. To get there you have to drive an unsealed road for miles. It felt a lot like my trip across Highway 38 from Wairoa to Rotorua through the Urewera range. It was pretty hot and I wasn’t it the mood for a hike, so I set up my hammock and read at the edge of a pristine beach. Then I went for a swim. The beach wasn’t so shallow meaning the water was colder than I was used to. Very refreshing.

Next I embarked on my most impressive van-cooked meal to date: Pasta with clams. I didn’t have many ingredients on hand, enough to make something delectable. I started with the classic sauted onions and garlic and added a bell pepper too. Then I poured in a can of diced tomatoes in tomato sauce that I’ve had lying around forever. Once the mixture was boiling, I added my clams and mussels and covered the pot. As soon as the shellfish opened, I took them off the heat to keep them tender. I set the seafood sauce aside and cooked my g-free pasta, then combined it all and chowed down. Fresh clams out the van, come and get it.

I drove back over the hill that afternoon and delivered the remainder of the clams to Tom and Robyn. While I was at work the next day, Tom whipped up an epic Manhattan style chowder which I just finished for lunch, six days later. Now that I know how to find them, I can run down to the beach for a feed whenever I want. Plus, you’re allowed 150 per person per season, so it’s not like I’ll butt up against that limit for a little while.

Already stoked for the next adventure.